What’s in my diaper bag
For longer than I care to admit, I was a tabloid junkie. I would stand in the line for the cashier at the grocery store and peruse for the most attention-grabbing headline regarding whichever celebrity’s divorce or pregnancy or affair or nervous breakdown or freshly bleached bunghole. I would read about it being news that some socialite carried her own unbleached, organic toilet paper from Whole Foods to her Land Rover.
But among the “Stars: They’re Just Like Us!” and celebrity horoscopes, I remember a section dedicated to what was in celebrity’s bags. An artfully laid out still-life of high end lipsticks and artisanal protein bars and bottled artesian water with designer wallets, carrying platinum credit cards and travel size versions of big price tagged perfumes.
It’s been a while since I’ve read a tabloid. Mostly because every trip down the aisle to the cashier is spent tediously placing the cart just so as to not let my toddler grab the gum on the left or the lighters on the right, while loading things up on the belt and trying to make small talk with the first adult I’ve interacted with for the past few days aside from my husband. But, as an homage to my younger, childless, tabloid-reading days, here is (drum roll please).
What’s in my diaper bag:
- Diapers (obviously) At least two total or I start to hyperventilate.
- Wipes which were banished to the diaper bag after my husband said they smelled like a nursing home.
- About five baby bottle travel caps.
- A Clif bar with one bite missing because my toddler had a change of heart after demanding it be opened.
- A smashed pack of goldfish. Maybe I’ll snort it.
- Two outfits I would never put my children in except for in cases of explosive diarrhea.
- Three crumbled receipts from Target.
- An apple sauce fruit squeezie I am not above sucking down myself.
- Three toy cars which have been put in the diaper bag after making good on many threats of taking them away.
- A toy that plays classical music, but the batteries are dying so it sounds like the thing of nightmares.
- Cheerios. Several. I don’t know where they come from, they just appear by way of having small children.
- A board book that looks like it survived an apocalypse after surviving teething by two children.
- My wallet. Not designer. Not impressive. Trust.
- Chapstick I got from my dentist no less than 3 years ago.
- Crayons from apparently every restaurant we have ever been to.
- Several hair elastics should I see a crowd of other exasperated mothers who needs to throw it up in a bun.
- Sanitizing wipes often used in vain after my 9 month old has put anything and everything in her mouth.
- Pads because it takes one trip to the trampoline park without them to never forget them again.
Oh, the glamour.
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